Ultramarines The Fall of Light
by Kit Daae
Summary: An Ultramarines short story, focusing on my own character in the Warhammer 40k universe. Expect plenty of blood and perhaps some chaotic elements. .
1. Chapter 1

Ultramarines – Chapter 1 Tricks of the Trade

"You have been tested and found worthy of becoming one of the Emperor's finest - the space Marines."

The scout remembered fondly his initiation into the Space Marines. He had undergone the intense physical and mental training and modifications that had made him an Ultramarine; one of the Emperor's finest warriors. The space marines were super-human warriors; genetically modified to be stronger, faster and smarter than normal humans. Varren was one such man. He had recently been inducted into the Ultramarines chapter a scant five years ago from the very planet they had been sent to investigate now.

Tarsis Omega was a depressing planet. The world was a hive city, hab units and massive forges dotted the landscape like metal blemishes on a hard, rocky skin. It was not a pretty world, but it was never meant to be. The scouts had been spread into four groups of five and deployed to areas of debated Ork activity with the use of Thunderhawk gunships. It was standard deployment for the Ultramarines but they were assisted by the local planetary defense forces. 25 imperial guard troopers were dispatched in Chimera transports, but the vehicles were left behind as Varren's force moved into the forest.

A few hours passed and two of the scout squads had reported no sightings and returned to the strike cruiser that orbited the planet. Varren's squad and one other stayed behind to investigate further into the reports. Varren's sergeant, Benjamin, received a signal over the short range vox-net.

"Sergeant Benjamin!" A gruff voice announced over the channel, "Orks! Hundreds of them! We need reinforcements!"

It was Sergeant Roccane; his squad had suddenly and quickly been attacked by a huge group of Orks and Benjamin replied, telling him to hold tight and that he'd be there soon. The Imperial Guard had started to run in the direction of the other group when a blood curdling roar echoed from the woods directly ahead of them. Benjamin knew at that moment that they would not reach their brothers in time to help. A green tide of Orks burst through the underbrush and immediately set to cutting the Imperial Guard to ribbons. Some managed to retaliate with bayonets and lasgun shots, but it was too late.

Most of the group was decimated in seconds, even as the Ultramarines opened fire into the greenskins. The holy bolter shells that the scouts carried packed a bigger punch than the lasguns of the guard but even so the numbers of the Orks were overwhelming. Even if they survived, the scouts would run out of ammo before all the damned xenos were dead.

Still; they fought bravely and the commissar commissioned to the garrison of troops had managed to wrangle some semblance of order. The guard retreated into the woods as did the scouts and they moved just outside of the Orks range of fire. Benjamin knew that wouldn't last however, and so he had his scouts and the Commissar set up defensive firing lines. Even if they were to die they would do so fulfilling the Emperor's wishes. The scouts were set behind a large tree trunk that had fallen and the guard was in disciplined firing lines next to them. They could hear the guttural grunts and growls of the Orks as they maneuvered through the woods.

The first few Orks broke through the brush just to be mowed down by concentrated lasgun fire and precise shots from the three scouts with bolters. The cracks of the bolters were a dead giveaway for the greenskins and the nob that leaded the group snarled.

"Come on you gits! Get in dere and start krumpin!" The nob shouted in its disgusting dialect. He had been designated Killtoof' by the guard that had summoned for the Ultramarine's aid; he was supposedly one of the strongest in the mobs that have been spotted.

The Orks obeyed out of fear of the nob and ran for the defended position, several dozen of the foul creatures being mowed down without ever reaching the survivors. Only 15 guard and the 5 scouts still stood but they took a grim toll from the greenskins; easily killing more than three times their number, but they kept coming. An endless green tide and they hadn't received any news from the other group. Benjamin tried to contact them while still keeping precise aim on the xenos as only a space marine could. His bolt pistol didn't have nearly as much stopping power as a full size bolter but it could drop an ork from a decent range with a shot to the face. And Benjamin was an expert sniper.

Varren could hear guardsmen dying from stray Ork shots that managed to hit something. The din of the battle was horrible – loud cracks from the bolters and even louder noises from the Orks' looted guns. The creatures loved the sound of loud gunfire and the noise they were making now seemed to invigorate them even more. They were getting closer and in close combat an Ork was stronger than any normal human; they would be slaughtered.

"Sergeant! We need to move!" Varren shouted over the sound of guns.

"We stay brother!" Benjamin shouted in reply and continued to fire into the ork's ranks.

The imperial troops didn't even need to aim anymore – they were so many orks that any shot fired would hit something as long as you didn't aim at the clouds. It was a veritable killing field and the orks' corpses were beginning to form makeshift cover for their still living brethren. They advanced relentlessly and more orks were emerging from the woods and they quickly reached the defender's position. The guards rushed forward to assault the greenskins but they underestimated their strength. Most of the guard were slaughtered in just a few seconds, the orks' greater physical strength and crude hand weapons chopping the guardsmen to ribbons.

Benjamin watched the melee unfold and realized that the orks would destroy them if they stayed. A dozen guardsmen were not worth the life of a Space Marine and with that knowledge he ordered a tactical retreat. The scouts moved into the woods at a steady pace, remaining as quiet and unassuming as possible, and tried to slip into the shadows.

The greenskins soon finished butchering the guardsmen and started to loot their corpses, as well as those of the fallen orks, for anything that could be valuable. The ork nob killtoof' moved through the mob and grinned at the bloodshed. Fifteen dead guard and their commissar slain and gutted. The stench was wondrously horrible; blood gunpowder and bile from voided bowels. Battle was always Killtoof's favorite pastime. A smaller ork waddled up to him and spoke in a guttural series of grunts; the report was not good news.

"Fifteen dead guard Killtoof' but none of dem blue boyz." The ork said.

"Bah! Find 'em! I want dose boyz' heads on me bosspole by dinner!" killtoof' shouted.

Varren followed Benjamin closely and kept a close eye on the shadows. Space Marine scouts specialize in moving without being detected despite their size and had successfully managed to avoid being drawn into the furious melee. They found a small clearing and set up a sniping position; bolters were not the best sniping weapon but luckily they could still fire from a decent range. Benjamin ordered one of the scouts, Rocair, to call the Tribute to Light.

On the bridge of the strike cruiser a message was received by techmarine Martello.

"Captain, News from the scouts." Martello stated.

A figure clad in brilliant blue armor was seated in the command chair with his eyes closed. His hair was cropped close to his skull and was a deep brown. The holy artificer armor that the man wore was adorned with prayer tags and heraldry from his many battles; his right shoulder pad had a golden skull bearing a wreath – the honors from a crusade long ago. The left held a red field of fire with the ultramarines chapter symbol layered in a heavy silver plate, with a single golden tear drop in the middle. This somber man was Captain Curator. His real name was only known in the chapter records and the title curator had been given to him after his first battle. He was the lone survivor of a failed strike into the heart of a chaos marine stronghold. His squad had destroyed the chaos taint but all his brothers had died in the flight from the traitors. He opened his eyes, the left split by a large scar running from his forehead to his cheek.

"Play the message…" He said, his voice gravelly and heavy with the weight of centuries of battle.


	2. Chapter 2

Ultramarines Chapter 2

"Play the message Martello." Captain Curator said, half knowing what was coming.

"Of course Captain." The techmarine said; his voice clipped and electronic from the many bionics that saturated his body.

The message was badly garbled and only thirty seconds of audible text managed to get through to the strike cruiser. The voice, what little could be heard, was hurried and sounded distressed.

"This is Sergeant Benjamin, 10th Company Scout regiment. The orks…. ave…through. We nee….ackup….Imperi….uard….stroyed."

The techmarine stayed silent as the words filtered through the on board vox caster. He cast his gaze down and turned in his chair to face Curator.

"That is the last of it Captain." He said.

Curator nodded and briskly walked over to a vox caster set into a recess in the wall. He flipped a switch and a loud screech rang through the ship; the sound of the vox net opening and every member of the _Tribute to Light_'s crew stood at attention as if their Captain was standing right in front of them. The Space Marines in particular watched the vox units with eagerness, ready to be off the ship and into the real fight.

"Brothers, Sons of Ultramar, Proud citizens and warriors of the Imperium!" Curator shouted into the vox caster, "Today our battle-brothers of the 10th company have lost valued friends. We will avenge their deaths and bring justice to these foul Xenos!"

Across the ship, Ultramarines bowed their heads in reverent respect for the fallen.

"But!" Curator continued, "We have heard from one of our brothers, and we must do everything in our power to assist him! All Ultramarines, ready your weapons… steel your hearts… cleanse your souls… and be ready to depart the ship in 10 minutes!"

Curator switched the vox caster off and looked over the bridge of the ship. It was lavish in its details, with solid marble floors and walls, laced with blue-tinted gold that formed naturally on Macragge, the Ultramarines home world. A huge statue carved in the likeness of the Immortal Emperor of Mankind was seated on a golden throne and took up a large portion of the bridge. Curator strode confidently to the statue and knelt before it.

It had been a while since Curator had recited his oaths, but he still remembered them as if he read them from a paper.

"Before the eyes of my Immortal Emperor… I swear that this battle will be fought with all our strength. We shall drive the xeno from our world and cleanse them from our galaxy. If we should fail, we shall die before surrender."

Techmarine Martello watched as Captain Curator recited the verses perfectly. He knew the verses so well that he could recite them during battle, but so could every other marine. It was part of their enhanced bodies. Perfect killing machines, that's what they were, are and always will be.

Curator finished reciting his verses and stood, his massive form towering over the servitors that worked the bridge. He turned to face Martello and nodded a silent instruction to order the on-board armory to ready his wargear. Martello nodded back and returned to his console. Martello typed a few commands into the computer and spoke without turning.

"Captain, your wargear is prepared." Martello stated flatly, "Emperor be with you brother."

"And with you." Curator responded.

Captain Curator turned and left the bridge, moving through the flight decks of the strike cruiser toward the armory. Several Imperial crewmen stopped and saluted as he moved past, but he paid them no mind, moving with determination. Tactical Sergeant Rezeo met him in a hallway and matched his stride perfectly.

"Captain." Rezeo said, bowing his shaved head, "Tactical squads Pasin and my own are prepared for departure. We have equipped our brothers with flamers and missile launchers, as is standard, and Devastator Squad Tearn is wielding heavy bolters and a lascannon in case of heavy armor."

"Very good. How is morale?" Curator asked, trusting Rezeo as much as he would himself.

"As good as can be. Our brothers are prepared and eager for battle."

Curator nodded, he had hoped for that answer. His brothers were always prepared for war and he knew better than to ask, but he wanted to know that he was right. Too many times have commanders been over-confident and fallen because of arrogance.

"Prepare the drop pods. I will be there shortly." Curator said.

Rezeo nodded and moved through the heavy blast doors into the drop bay. Curator moved slightly farther down the hall and moved into the armoury. A section of the armoury was set aside specifically for his wargear and the metal cabinet glowed with an energy field that protected his personal items from damage. He approached the cabinet and the field dissipated in response to his armor's electronic signal. He opened the doors slowly and the smell of holy oils and scented wax filled the armoury. His weapons were in prime condition and he was glad to be armed yet again. His favorite weapons lined the walls of the locker and he removed a large two-handed power sword from the left wall. He turned and strode a few feet before slicing the blade through the air to ensure it was in good condition. He thumbed the activation stud and the deadly energy field jumped to life around the blade; such a weapon was a wonder of the dark age of technology, the time before the great heresy and he was lucky to own such a relic.

Satisfied that the weapon was battle ready he swung it over his back and the blade stuck to a special magnet that had been built into his back pack after receiving the weapon. Walking back to the cabinet he attached a large leather holster to his power armor's belt and shoved a pistol sized melta gun into it. A few grenades from the standard arming chamber and he was ready. When he arrived, thirty marines awaited him: Squads Retzeo and Pasin, each with ten marines, Devastator Squad Tearn numbering five marines, three with heavy bolters and one with a plasma cannon and Curator's own personal Sternguard retinue. The sternguard were the most impressive of the gathered warriors, their blue armor adorned with golden trophies of battle and prayer scrolls. Each carried a custom made bolter, signs of their rank, and stood with perfect stature.

"Brothers." Curator bowed his head in respect for his battle-brothers, "I am glad to go into battle once more, and I could not wish for more loyal men to command."

The marines gathered before the drop pods stood with their helmets removed and smiled – their captain was one of the most sentimental of the Ultramarine's and they understood that he never spoke without reason and compassion to his brothers.

"We shall cleanse this world, and the Ork's cannot hope to stand against loyal servants of the Emperor. Prepare for battle."

The Ultramarines saluted their captain and each squad moved toward their own drop pods. Filling the seats and locking the grav harnesses the doors of the teardrop shaped craft closed automatically and they were lifted into launching position. The bay doors opened to the space beyond and the drop pods started to drift inside the hangar, the claws moving them outside the ship, before the thrusters propelled them into low orbit. Soon, death would rain from the heavens onto the Ork's heads.


	3. Chapter 3

Ultramarines Chapter 3

The Angels Descent

The descent of the drop pods was a horrifying sight. Each of the tear-drop shaped craft fell from the sky as fireballs, their hulls ignited by entering the planets orbit. The pods were spotted by the Ork nob Killtoof and the greenskin started barking guttural orders to the lowly orks under his command. The orders barely had time to register before the first drop pod smashed into the ground on top of two of the smaller aliens. The assault ramps slammed down before the flames had gone completely out and Squad Pasin began pouring bolter shells into the Orks as they recoiled from the shock of the super human warriors falling directly into their midst. That advantage was short lived however, as the Orks almost immediately recovered and rushed forward; just as another drop pod slammed behind the rushing horde. Squad Retzeo opened bolter fire into the green skins backs, the mass reactive shells tearing them apart. The nob Killtoof had retreated into the small fort that the Orks had built from scrap they had salvaged.

"Oi!" The alien shouted, "Get me wagon reddy!"

Outside, the last two drop pods had veered off course and landed roughly three miles to the west of a second ork base. Captain Curator emerged from the ramp of his drop pod, followed by his stern guard retinue. He scanned the woods, but couldn't spot the drop pod containing devastator squad Tearn. Curator flipped a switch on his collar, activating his in-suit vox system.

"Sergeant Retzeo, Sergeant Pasin, report." Curator called.

The only reply was static.

"Sergeants, report!"

One of Curator's stern guard, a marine named Kellar, approached and bowed slightly, "Captain, I believe that the Orks may have a jamming device in these woods. It would explain the interference and the garbled message from Brother Benjamin."

"You are most likely correct Brother." Curator conceded, "And this reveals much about our enemy."

"What do you mean?" Kellar asked.

"Simple. To have technology like this, this isn't a simple Warboss or Nob. They must have an Ork Mek." Curator stated, "And that means that they will most likely have armored support."

Curator tried the vox-net again, "Sergeant Tearn?"

Static filled the vox for a moment before Sergeant Tearn's voice cut through the noise. "Yes Captain?"

"I don't see your Pod, where did your squad land?"

"We are just outside a second ork base Captain; luckily our pod landed within cover and the orks have not noticed our presence."

"Have you established any contact with squads Retzeo or Pasin?" Curator asked.

"No sir, we feared that we may have even lost contact with you until you called." Sergeant Tearn replied.

Curator nodded to himself, he had figured as much. "Brother Tearn, get your devastators into cover with firing lines; we will arrive shortly and we will take that base before assisting our brothers."

Curator switched the vox system off before Tearn could respond. He knew that his orders would be followed without question. He motioned to his sternguard to follow his lead and they started to make their way through the forest. Quickly enough they would arrive at the ork base and then the Emperor's Light would be given to these filthy xenos.

Sergeant Pasin had recoiled for a split second when a screech from his vox-net rang in his earpiece. He tried to discern any message from it, but the signal was unintelligible. He could figure out what the disturbance was after the battle was finished. He turned his attention back to the fight and brought his bolt pistol around just in time to loose a round into a charging ork's face. The beasts features exploded in a rain of gore and bone as the shell ripped through its leathery flesh and literally blasted the head from its shoulders. His brothers were still shooting in disciplined volleys at the remaining green skins, but something was wrong. Orks never gathered in groups this small, they always, ALWAYS, gathered en masse.

The last ork was killed with a well placed shot by one of Retzeo's men and the two sergeants approached each other. Each gripped the other's wrist in a warriors grip and exchanged pleasantries.

"Brother Pasin" stated Retzeo, "I'm glad to see the ride went well."

"Aye," said Pasin, "But you know how I feel about these things." He pointed to the drop pods and sighed, "I don't trust plummeting to the ground in a pod. Give me a Thunderhawk any day."

"I agree," Retzeo stated matter-of-factly, "But the drop pod is an integral part of our armory and it is necessary for us to take full advantage of it."

Pasin sighed and was about to retort when a loud roar of metal on metal pealed through the air. Pasin shut one eye as the sound reverberated through his skull before his auto senses kicked in and protected his ears from the grating sound. A sudden squeal and loud shouting announced that something was amiss mere seconds before a large chunk of sheet metal on the wall of the orks' base was knocked free by a large vehicle, resembling a truck only in name and constructed almost completely of scrap metal, as it burst through and crushed one of the marines under its heavy treads. The armored warrior didn't have time to react and the ram on the front of the vehicle knocked him from his feet and just as quickly his armor was shattered, the ruined remains dragged behind the ork vehicle for several feet.

The Ultramarines that could, fired everything they had but the trukk was surprisingly fast and was out of their reach before they could land any telling blows. Pasin rushed to one of his battle brothers while another two searched the remains of the dead marine. The gene seed was destroyed, and there was no way to heal him - he was too far gone.

"We need heavy weapons! The Orks have armor!" The statement wasn't needed, as every marine had witnessed what happened. Pasin opened his suit vox-caster and tried every channel again.

"This is Sergeant Pasin! An ork nob has escaped the southeastern base, all units be on the look out for this renegade xenon! It travels in an armored vehicle and carries several of its tribe with it!"

The squads finished their silent prayers for their fallen brother and had lined up in battle formation. The base was cleared and demolition charges were set on remote detonators. Sergeant Retzeo lead his squad to the edge of the forest.

"Brother Pasin, we are moving to track the ork trukk. We will remain in vox-distance just in case." Retzeo moved his men into the dense forest without waiting for approval.

Pasin hadn't expected him to wait, and in all honesty he wasn't willing to wait himself. His squad followed into the forest moving into a covering position for their brothers. Once they had moved far enough into the underbrush the remote detonator was pressed and a large explosion rocked the woods.

The Imperial Guard stationed in the slum city of Oran saw the explosion from the city walls. They had been informed of the Marine's plan. They were to protect the city during the initial assault in case the orks moved to attack the city.

The war had started.


End file.
